The Legion's Return
by Kieve Grove
Summary: This is my second story, so any reviews or criticism would be appreciated! A gnomish warlock is watching her world burn to the very ground. Eventually, the chaos of the night catches up her to her. The night hold more surprises and revelations than she's ever imagined. Now, join her as she tries to figure out what's going on with the Legion's Return.


The world was burning to its very core as she simply watched on. Ghastly green fires from the depths of the Twisting Nether hailed upon the once great city of Stormwind. The cries of children echoed throughout the kingdom. A homeless man screamed that the apocalypse had arrived. The moans of agony and final dying breathes of soldiers were barely audible, but to her, it was just as loud as the ongoing chaos. Demons ran amuck the pathetic humans, killing many of them as they tried to escape. The bright green flames that fell from the sky would reform themselves to join the others. Their laughter filled the wretched night with the signal of ultimate victory over the planet that held them off for thousands of years. Such was the night when Azeroth finally lost her independence to the darkness that she held off long before any mortal could witness her battles between light and dark. This was the end.

All she could do was watch on. These were her demons that had been her dark servants of destruction for many years, only to abandon their jailor for a new master. It was one of many cities that she had called home that trembled to the might of another's fury. Her minions that terrorized heroes and citizens alike as they tried to defend themselves. She knew that she was supposed to feel guilty, but all she could do was ever so slightly grim at the ensuing mayhem. If anything, she was upset that she couldn't partake in the excitement of burning flesh and crushing souls.

"What on Azeroth is going on here?" Oh, she'd forgotten about the guards. Turning around to see her captors, she couldn't believe the many of the most ignorant and naïve people to have ever lived were arrogant humans who couldn't even make out what was happening around them when it wasn't to their pleasure. Wasn't it obvious?

"Daring, this is the Burning Legion's return. I'm sure you're heard enough stories to have at least one stick to that puny pile of muck that you call a brain. Or at least I hope so. It's never any fun to kill the-"

"Shut it gnome! You're in no position to be insulting the Grand Marshall!" cried the lowly recruit in a surprisingly confident tone that she had never heard from this particular boy. He was barely a man, with a set of blue doe-like eyes that showed he was in his early twenties, if he was even that old. He was a scrawny, yet intelligent boy from what she could gather, but she was never sure why he joined with these ridiculous people, especially when there was a whole district of the Stormwind dedicated to wimps such as himself.

"So you say, but you're in no position to speak either. Your city is burning to the ground, countless lives are being wasted, and all you're doing is interrogating me." said the warlock, with her voice slowly rising in anger "Such an effective army you have Marshall!"

His dark hairy brows burrowed together as he stared angrily at her. What an idiot! Of all the emotions to evoke, guilt was one of the least effective ways to convince her of anything. However, the more he stared, the less she seemed sure of what he was trying to do. Humans, while stupid, are also complex, making sure that there is never a single and clear motive to anything they do. It's as if they're trying to burn themselves mentally before anything happens to their physical forms.

The quiet recruit slowly moved towards the higher ranked, right until his mouth was a mere centimeter away from the Marshall's ear. He whispered something, but she couldn't make it out. The Marshal nodded and the young man ran towards the ruins of the Stormwind Park. Both Marshall and warlock watched as he ran out of site, turning around onto the next street. It lifted some of the tension watching terrified man run for dear life as his commander watched on, but not all of it. Once he was out of site, the Marshall turned his attention back onto the warlock, making sure his crusty stare was intact as she tried to think of the best possible solution out of the mess she had made.

After a few moments of tense staring, the Marshall finally opened his mouth. "So what should we be doing then? If you want to criticize, then provide a solution." So maybe it wasn't guilt he was trying to use. Facial expressions are so hard, she reasoned, and so very useless. If they aren't screaming with those absolutely _hilarious_ faces, then it couldn't be read. Even without reading them, you could still see how ridiculous they were, no matter the state.

Then the Marshall smiled. "Well…" he asked, staring at her confused face as she intently thought. How could she possibly get out of here?

"Why should I?" she questioned, regaining her composure with every passing second. It would take more than a scared recruit and an arrogant human to make her crack. She was going to get out of her, even if it was the last thing she did. She was needed elsewhere, she just knew it.

"Because this is your responsibility, too. So help me if you dare try anything funny, I'll make sure you suffer a painful death of giggly children and happy music about rainbows and butterflies!"

A pregnant pause filled the air between the two. Nothing filled it but the chaotic sounds of battle and death. Neither said a word, only thinking. Something was off about the Marshall. Normal humans enjoy the sounds of happy tiny people and mind-meltingly bad music.

It remained like this for a while, until the Marshall finally broke it. "You really don't know what's going on, do you?" he said in a condescending voice. "I mean, I knew you were stupid enough to be caught by the royal guard before, but to consider that a brilliantly evil mind such as yourself wouldn't even recognize the very situation she had been preparing for her entire career! 'Preposterous!' the council cried when we even suggested it! Yet here we are saving your pathetic skin again! What do you have to say for yourself, eh?"

The warlock couldn't believe it. Her suspicions were only getting worse. People rarely called her 'brilliant' and 'stupid' in the same speech as he just did. There were only a few who would even dare speak to her like that. And the humans didn't have a council that appreciated her this much, so it must be-oh! The realization hit her hard, but it didn't make any sense. They were bloated corpses burning to ash the last time she had seen them so long ago.

"Come on, sir! The portal won't last much longer." cried the recruit. The screech of the recruit brought both parties back to reality. She just couldn't believe it. It was impossible, like humans having interesting lives and demons bringing flowers on dates!

"We're coming Vyneil! Just give us a few more seconds!" the Marshall cried.

Suddenly, he snarled. Brown hairs all along his body sprang up, continuing across his skin until it covered all of his body. His perfectly straight back hunched over and his nails began to grow sharper and longer, like the claws of a wolf. His facial features distorted from the pudgy normal face of a human into one closer to a canine, with a snout, fangs, a sharper nose, and long ears. His legs bent to show a form more capable of walking on all fours. His Stormwind uniform melted off him as these other changes occurred, revealing a dark purple robe with a matching set of gloves, shoes, a hood, and so on. Along with it, an iron scepter capable of tearing a man to pieces simply by looking at him appeared in place of sword.

All she could do was stand there. She'd been right, but that couldn't be. It simply couldn't be. "Davlan? I thought that you were dead…" she said, trying to best not to sound surprised. Instead, it came off as a false attempt at her normal cynical tone to conceal her shock.

"I make soulstones for a living, so I think I qualify to escape death. Now, we have to go! The portal's not going to last much longer! We have to get out of here before anything else happens." Davlan said, not paying much attention to the gnome. He took her hands, pulling her to his shoulders and setting her down on his back before he began running for it. The world blurred and sounds merged, just like they did in the old days. He leaped among the rubble of a moonwell before stopping right along the edge of the water.

There, a young and beautiful blood elf stood. Short dark brown hair flowing in the breeze with an outfit similar to Davlan's, except instead of an iron scepter, there was an elegant staff made of a dark, almost black, wood. She was using it to channel her dark powers into a gateway mere meters away.

"Are you guys ready?" she cried out, "I can sense the other demons. We have to leave now!"

"Yes Vyniel," He yelled in response, "I've got her. Let's head out!" he cried, jumping head first into the portal with the gnome still on his back. She turned around to see demons flying towards her right as Vyneil entered the portal and closed it.

"Where are we going?" the gnome cried, not sure of what was going on. Just a few moments ago, she was laughing at the helpless humans, but now she felt all the same, what with the return of her former friends and her kidnapping. There was no response, but she could hear dark and dingy voices calling her name.

"Oh Kebre…..Kebre….Kebre….."

Wherever she was going, she knew this game wouldn't last long. After all, the world was burning in hellish fires. But for now, she'd have to play along with the others. She couldn't show her true allegiances, now could she?


End file.
